


T is for Trust

by latexidermy



Series: A-Z Prompts for the Hamilsquad [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Basically Lafayette has a problem with everything about himself, Crossdressing Lafayette, Fuckbuddies Washette, Happy Ending, Laf is lowkey in love with Herc and Herc is str8 ok, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not-Quite-Closeted George Wash?, Politician!George, Promiscuous!Laf, Self-Esteem Issues, Unrequited Love, hints of anorexia, mentions of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 20:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12306987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latexidermy/pseuds/latexidermy
Summary: Lafayette just wants to be loved.(Used to be F is for Faithful)





	T is for Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I... actually am in love with this piece? That sounds cocky, but I am. So... enjoy.
> 
> Edit: I forgot that most of the projects in the A-Z series are in the same verse. I fucked up and had Burrcules in another fic when in this fic Herc told Laf he was straight so I've changed that.

Lafayette's fingers drummed lightly against the quiet, cozy cafe’s table, eyes flitting ever so lightly to the large Grandfather clock that stood up by the cafe’s entrance. Though it was a strain on his eyes, because for the sake of discretion, he’d chosen a table towards the very back of the actually fairly spacey place. It was a change of scenery to be so far from the register, cuddled up and hidden away in the back like someone’s dirty secret. Usually, he was front and center─laughing loudly with his friends and shamelessly flirting with the sweet, young man that worked behind the counter. The cafe had been frequented by Lafayette and his friends ever since he’d met them years ago─fresh off the boat from France during his Sophomore year, not speaking a lick of English and desperate for a kind word and a pretty smile. Sent to live with his cousin’s family in New York by his Grandmother─at the advice of his cruel Uncles.

France had been unforgiving towards him─someone that found solace in the clothes of the opposite gender, someone that didn’t mold into the status quo. Lafayette had been blessed like his father, his father’s father and his father’s father’s father─given a French Catholic name that would protect him in battle of all things. He had been born to be a man, and according to the country he had once been so proud to be a civilian of, he had failed. Or maybe it wasn’t France, but his father’s associates─Laf refused to acknowledge them as Uncles, they had never done a mentoring thing in their life--they were all set to give the boy his inheritance, and how could they in _good conscience_ if he was going to blow it all on makeup and drag? They’d sent him to America to toughen him up, but they’d only received a strong, more confident young man who was proud of his preferences and who he was.

When Lafayette had arrived in America, his only means of communication had been his cousin, Thomas. Thomas… even to this day, fully articulate in the English language, Lafayette struggles to put into words just how much he cared for the older man. He’d struggled with his English ever since he was young, so much so that his Grandmother and Adrienne had given up on teaching him. He had only Thomas to tell others what he needed or wanted─which meant he followed his cousin everywhere. However, when he met Alex… and then, by association, John and Hercules…

It had been a godsend.

Of course, it had taken time. And in the time it had taken for him to fully grasp the English language, he’d often been taken advantage of. Lafayette had been thrilled to discover that America was just slightly more accepting of his preferences and sexuality than France had been─though, he hadn’t understood that fetishization and acceptance were two very different things. All he saw was all the attention he was so suddenly receiving from all these boys─and even girls, though he had to politely turn the down─and how pleasant American boys were.

Boys came and went during the entirety of his high school career, each leaving him more broken and torn than the last. But there were two that stuck out against his memories despite his attempts to bury them. First was George King, the handsome senior that had taken an interest in him when he was still but a child. That itself should’ve set off alarms─and it did, for Alex and John who were Juniors─but all Laf could be was flattered. Lafayette couldn’t _believe_ himself when King had first invited him to his house after school to study. He was a poor English speaker, he was exceedingly feminine, he was gay and more than anything, he often saw himself as fat. (It had taken a long time for him to accept that it was the mental illness that was talking, but by then the damage left by dozens of boys and insecurities had been done). King had entertained the young Frenchman for a few weeks, they had what Lafayette had thought was a lovely, romantic relationship. Things had moved fast, yes, but in a romantic way. The way things moved when people were in love, _non_?

Lafayette had found King cheating on him with a young, meek _Freshman_ named Benedict. Benedict Arnold.

After King, it was Hercules. And to be fair, Hercules had done nothing but show proper kindness to Lafayette. Shown him that it didn’t need to be just family defending your name, or helping you get through different language barriers. Hercules hadn’t _intended_ for Laf to fall in love with him, nor had he _intentionally_ led him on. Or, so the young tailor had hurriedly explained whenever the situation was brought up ─often times drunkenly by Laf himself, or jokingly by either Alexander or John. But when Lafayette, ego still bruised from what happened with King, had boldly kissed Hercules in hopes of a true romance… in hopes to be loved by someone that _wasn’t_ his cousin’s family… he’d been cruelly shot down with a deadpanned, _‘I’m just your friend, Gil. You know this.’_

Lafayette snorts, shifts his coffee mug around as he glances up at the clock again. Fifteen minutes late.

And _of course_ he’d known. How foolish, he’d been. Hercules had never done anything to insinuate he showed an interest in him and had never done anything to lead him on. The entire situation was Lafayette’s own stupidity, and he would never be able to account for how grateful he was that Hercules was able to brush the incident off. That it had given a blow to the friendship that Lafayette cherished so dearly.

However, following Hercules, Lafayette had been unable to see men his age the same way. He knew that if he were to ever date anyone his age again, it would have to be Hercules or nobody. He was in deep for the other man, horribly so. And no matter how many times he got himself fucked in the back of someone’s car, or how many parties he went to to drink out the stinging memory of rejection, he could never think of anyone but Hercules. So, Gilbert had sought affections in the arms of older men. Only seventeen, he found himself parading out of a new man’s─ _man_ , not _boy_ , because boys were cruel and at least men let him know just exactly what was going on everytime─hotel room or home almost nightly. Though he was often times their dirty little secret, a moments indulgence in the night to be forgotten by daylight, he found small pieces of himself in these men. Small pieces of the affection, the romance, the praise that he had so desperately craved for so long.

And up until the past year, that was how it had been. With Lafayette simply gaining a reputation around DC, in order to suppress the ache in his heart that longed for someone’s kind touch for more than blink of an eye.

Until he’d met George Washington… Alex’s boss.

“Ah, Gilbert! Sorry, I’m late!” Speak of the devil.

Lafayette lifts his eyes through his eyelashes to look up at where George was settling into the seat opposite of him. He can’t help but stare─taking in the other man’s features. More importantly, taking in what other’s would call his ‘flaws’.

His bushy eyebrows, knitted together _just so slightly_ with hints of stress and beaded lightly with sweat ─probably from hurrying from wherever he’d been to their meetup, or maybe from scurrying to ditch his bodyguards. A flush over the bridge of his nose, a strange place for a man to blush but a place nevertheless─and the very, _very_ light smattering of freckles there as well. If Laf hadn’t been so engaged in the older man’s features, he would’ve certainly missed them. The glistening of his usually hard, chocolate eyes ─now lit up with mirth. A mirth Lafayette would never _dare_ attribute to himself. The small gap in his smile, the smile that he meekly flashes at the Frenchman in an apology for his tardy. God, if all of George’s apologies would end with smiles, Lafayette is unsure of just how much he’d let the man slide with.

Lafayette feels his heart skip a beat, at the same time that it breaks. For he knows that he has allowed himself to come to love this man over the course of the past year─ever since they’d started sleeping together, mostly in secret, seeing as George was still somewhat closeted. But he also knows that this would never be anything more, never be anything past two people relieving stress through _sex_.

Even if he’d noticed he’d started to see more and more of the Vice President at nightclubs he frequented, or how George was always─somehow, both sheepishly and stoically─trailing behind Alex whenever the group of friends met up.

“No worries. I ordered you a hot chocolate─Alexander told me that you don’t indulge in coffee, so I hope the chocolate will suffice,” Lafayette says after pulling himself from his thoughts, attempting to avoid getting down to _business_ so soon. He pushes the mug of chocolate, having been kept warm in one of the kitchens’ thermos’, towards the handsome man. He wanted these few moments of camaraderie to last, the moments where he could fool himself into believing he was a friend, not a fuck. Maybe even go as far as to fantasize about being a _boyfriend_.

“Sounds delicious!” George exclaims─ _and are those nerves in his voice? no, stop it, Laf, why would he be nervous to talk to you? ─_, before finally settling. He lifts his eyes up to Laf, smiles again. Lafayette averts his gaze, not wanting to allow himself to memorize the smile lines or the way George’s eyes seem to light up with each pull upwards of his lips. Or maybe, it’s to find something to stop the heat that always seems to seep into his cheeks whenever George looks at him like that… god, was he _pathetic_ or what? “... Gilbert? Is there something bothering you?”

_This is ridiculous. George is a man of status, esteem. He would never want anything to do with me. And even if he did, even if he wanted me, it would never be for long. I am not lifelong partner material… I am not partner material at all. I am but a fuck to him, and though a good one, there will always be someone better. Someone prettier, someone smarter, someone funnier, someone…_

“So, where do you want to do this?” Lafayette asks, turning back to George, their resolve steeled. Though he knows his eyes are shiny with tears, he has become better at masking his emotions on his _face_ since he was the no-English-speaking French little boy that wore his heart on his sleeve. He will cry later, on Adrienne’s lap, and try not to think about all the calories in the tub of ice cream he will hork down in comfort. No, it will always be his eyes that betray him. “Your car, mine? I don’t know if Hercules and Adrienne are at the apartment, but if your son is not with you, I could follow you to your home…”

“Gilbert…” George says, voice coming out quiet and with a nervous laugh. He reaches over, across the table to grasp the younger man’s hand. Laf looks down, and for the briefest moment, softens. The sight of his hand in George’s is… honestly, beautiful…

His nails, long and painted with shimmering black nail polish, look so feminine and dainty next to George’s plain ones with just the slightest hint of dirt beneath his fingers. Laf’s fingers are long and slender, adorned with rings and and a fading infinity tattoo that he shares with Thomas and Adrienne on his pinky. But George’s, while equally long, are thick and strong. Firm. Equally pale, with just the slightest hint of hair on the back of his knuckles…

God, they’d look so perfect together…

 _No!_ , Lafayette chastises himself. _George is not doing this out of genuine interest, Gilbert, quit being so stupid! He’s doing this because he believes his chances of getting laid are in danger! Toughen up!_

“Washington,” Lafayette shoots back coldly after snatching his hand away, reminding himself that this would never be anything more. They were fuck buddies at most, and Lafayette would never dare to think he could have more. He wouldn’t allow himself to even dream, because dreaming was for those that were weak and prey. And Laf was _tired_ of being prey, he wanted to be predator for _once_.

“I told her,” George chuckles drily, looking down at the now cold mug of hot chocolate. He pulls his hand back across to his side of the table, and fingers drum absently against the tabletop. There’s a bitterness in George’s voice that Laf hates he’s been the cause of, but before he could apologize, George is speaking again. “that you would never want more with an old man like me. I told her and she insisted I come here today, she insisted that I…”

“... What? What are you on about?” Lafayette brightens up, but only just slightly. He still wouldn’t allow himself too much leniency for hope, but God… the way George spoke made him want to believe him so badly. Was this a prank, being played on him by older man? A _game_? What was George _saying_? It couldn’t possibly be the truth… could it? Could George see him as _more_ than just an easy fuck? Could they possibly…

“Adrienne told me to ask you… ask you out to dinner, tonight. She told me that instead of thinking with my dick, like I’ve been doing for this past year, to think with my heart. And by God, if my heart doesn’t beat to the rhythm of your name and your name only. But… it is obvious that this just an… an _arrangement_ , to you,” Lafayette flinches when he spits out the word ‘arrangement’ with such venom and hurt, recoiling physically in his seat. He didn’t think that words said in the same breath could make him feel so… high and low at the same exact time. However, it was always George’s influence on him. “I should’ve known, _never_ to invest any emotions to this situation. We can go to my car, if you’re still interested.”

George rises to his feet looking more aged and tired than Lafayette had ever seen him, and for a split moment, the younger man is dumbfounded. Could it be? What he had found himself longing for, what he denied himself to indulge in… could it all be real? Could this be his chance, his one true shot at love?

It is only when the older man begins making his way to the entrance of the cafe to leave that Laf remembers to throw down a few bills for the drinks and go _after_ him--for once, cursing his need for such high and impractical heels. He half-runs, half-stumbles through the cafe to reach where George was almost halfway through the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. He catches George on the sidewalk, a few feet from the minivan that was his car. Lafayette’s hand wraps around George’s bicep just a bit tighter than he would normally hold someone, nails digging into the sweater the man wears.

He had almost got George, and he wouldn’t even let the wind take this man away before he was sure that this was all _real_.

“Wha─my english must still be rusty… what are you saying, mon amie?” he asks, raising his voice just slightly over the noise of the busy DC streets. He knows that passerby’s will see and hear them, and most will talk─especially with George and Martha quickly gaining popularity in the polls as Vice President and President of the country, his enemies would look for just the slightest dirt to bring this man down─but for once, Lafayette he doesn’t care. He _will_ allow himself to hope, he _will_ indulge himself, just this once, and if it’s not the truth…

“I am saying that I… that I had been building up the courage to ask you to be _mine_ , Gilbert,” George shoots back with hurt in his voice, and there’s a sheepish, pained look on his face. For a moment, the two just stand there─looking at each other, waiting for the other to say or do _something_. Then, the grip Laf holds on his arm slackens ever-so-slightly, and he sucks in air through his teeth.

“To be… yours? Yours, yours? As in… your boyfriend,” he whispers, voice barely audible in his own ears. George falters, just for a split moment, before clearing his throat and rolling his eyes.

“ _P_ _lease_ , no need to rub it in.”

“Of course. I’d love to.”

“Gilbert, it is not funny─”

“I am not joking,” Lafayette insists, hand sliding down the man’s arm to hold onto George’s hand. He laces their fingers together and pushes some stray curls from his eyes so that he can stare George in the eyes. “I’d really love to. I… I believe that I am falling for you, George. No, I know that I have fallen for you. But I am afraid, you see. Everyone I’ve ever loved has betrayed me. Replaced me. I don’t know what I’m doing… I don’t want to be hurt anymore, only loved. I don’t know how much more tragedy my life can take. Please, before you confirm that this is what you want… be sure that your affections are not merely because I’m a shiny object. A fun toy, that only you know about. A plaything. A passing fancy. Please, be sure that I am what you want and what you will continue to want.”

Lafayette finishes his small speech by dipping his head briefly to stare at the black-spot littered sidewalk, an effort to discreetly wipe a tear from his eye. He hadn’t opened up to a man in such a way since he’d confessed his love to Hercules that fateful night, and he had vowed to never do such a thing again after the following rejection. Never to put that trust in a man that didn’t share his blood. But he realizes now that to get the things he wants, he must sometimes _give_. And if it meant giving to George, of all people? He’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Then so you shall be. Only loved. You have my word. I would never do such things to you, Gilbert. I _love_ you,” George whispers, putting stress on the word ‘love’. With his free hand, he reaches up to thumb away the black mascara track the tear had left on Lafayette’s face. His hand lingers against the other man’s cheek, taking in the light 5’o clock shadow beneath the foundation he wears and the slight acne scars on the spot where he’d accidentally rubbed away some of Lafayette’s makeup.

“I don’t take those words lightly,” Laf insists, voice equally quiet. And despite the busy streets around them, despite their lives and the different paths they walk, the two of them feel not only alone in this moment─with only the other for company─but they feel equal. They feel on the same wavelength, the same frequency. They feel matched, paired toe-to-toe for whatever they brought to life.

“I don’t use them lightly.”

Another moments pause of quiet, a missed beat. Before Lafayette through’s all caution to the wind─saying fuck it, finally allowing himself to break free of the locks of restraints he’d had on himself for so long.

He wraps his arms around George’s neck, and though hesitantly, kisses the other man. It’s lazy, sweet, and every bit Lafayette imagined it would be like to kiss George outside of the setting of just ‘getting off’.

And damn, if he doesn’t wish this shit had happened _sooner_. 


End file.
